The Memory
by TigressDreamer
Summary: The day of Foret Lodge's reopening has finally arrived. To the residents of Sombreville, it's practically a holiday in its own right. To others, it's only the start of the Memorial Day weekend. (Sequel to The Surprise. Rated to be safe.)
1. The Memory

**Disclaimer for the entire story: Sadly, I do not own Strange Magic, although I do have the DVD that I play once a week. All names and places are coincidental.**

**A bit late for my own prescribed deadline but life can drain the brain. It didn't help that we had some wicked weather last week. Constructive advice is appreciated but please refrain from criticism. Enjoy!**

"Dragonfly, down," Bog mumbles.

Marianne giggles as she feels the bed move as the puppy creeps to the foot of the bed before laying down again.

"Your own bed, Dragonfly," Bog orders.

A whine breaks through the early morning air and Bog repeats his order, this time with the puppy jumping off the bed. Cracking her amber eyes open, Marianne smiles at the innocent Poodle laying on her dog bed and laughs as Dragonfly acts as if she just woke up.

"You won't think it's so funny when she's full grown," Bog chides before yawning.

"Says the boy who tricked his parents by covering his dog with his blankets and sneaking out in the middle of the night when he was eight," Marianne murmurs.

The blush spreading across her husband's face is too cute and Marianne can't resist kissing him to full wakefulness. She laughs at his growl when she pulls back but his blue eyes sparkle with mischief when she shoos Dragonfly out of the bedroom before shutting the door on the bewildered puppy.

* * *

"Are you sure it's...," Bog starts.

"You heard the doctor," Marianne reminds, flicking his nose before returning to the cooking scrambled eggs. "It's perfectly safe for us to have sex in the second trimester and the baby doesn't know a thing. So stop worrying, cluck cluck."

Bog shakes his head at the tease and fills Dragonfly's food bowl before unlocking the dog door. Dragonfly bounds in with enthusiasm but a soft rebuke keeps her from wandering near the stove as Marianne transfers the scrambled eggs to a plate and the puppy heads to her food bowl instead.

"Are you coming to Foret Lodge for the opening," he questions?

"That's at noon, right," Marianne asks, getting a nod? "We should be there. I have one car that needs to be done today, a new rental that needs to be looked over, and just some paperwork for the garage and the rental company. It seems like paperwork always piles up near the end of the month."

"Ain't that the truth," Bog laughs, pouring milk into two glasses.

"What's your schedule today," she questions?

"Report to city hall as the mayor to finish some paperwork that Beaker probably already has on my desk concerning Foret Lodge's reopening, as well as the Memorial Day celebrations on Monday, and then head to Foret Lodge to make sure everything is finalized," he answers. "If everything goes smoothly, I should have the afternoon off once I deliver the opening speech."

"If? Should I even ask what can go wrong," Marianne asks?

"Don't say those words on opening day," Bog warns, pulling out the chair for her.

"What words," she questions innocently?

"Don't say 'what can go wrong' because if you do then something will go wrong in the most unlikely way," he remarks.

"My darling husband," Marianne murmurs, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You just said those words."

Closing his eyes with a groan, Bog ignores Marianne's laughter and lays his head on top of hers. He can't believe he jinxed them. Who cares if it seems superstitious! He knows from experience that Foret Lodge tends to draw in disaster. Everyone knew better than to mess up during the opening day and here he just messed up.

"Don't worry. I'm sure everything will be fine," she soothes. "After all, you didn't exactly ask the question. So, since I'm not allowed to say those words, what has gone wrong before?"

"A lot," Bog comments. "Last year's opening day, a visitor was backing their boat trailer into the lake and their whole vehicle went in instead. It took two hours to get it out of the water. Another visitor damaged a marked bee's nest because they thought the warning signs were a joke. They weren't stung that badly but it took almost a week before the bees calmed down enough to allow anyone in that area. One of the rented cabins lost power because a chipmunk knawed through the wire the night before. It wouldn't have been that much of a problem but somehow that cabin wasn't inspected thoroughly enough and the chipmunk had made a nest near the spot it damaged the wire, so we had to wait until the babies were grown before we could remove the scoundrels and put up repellants before fixing the cabin's wiring. We still managed to use the cabin but it didn't have any electricity."

"Sounds like some fond memories," Marianne quips.

"That was mild compared to the year the lodge almost got burned down because some idiot thought they needed to use nearly a whole bottle of lighter fluid to start a campfire," he mutters.

* * *

"I'm almost done, Dragonfly," Marianne murmurs.

Dragonfly stops grunting and runs through the dog door to the outside kennel. Marianne chuckles as she notices a stuffed lamb flying through the air outside her office window. That puppy was too smart for her own good, having learned to tell time by the cuckoo clock Griselda had gifted to The Blacktop Butterfly. She knew it was nearing lunchtime with Bog.

"Alright, alright, we'll go meet Daddy," Marianne concedes, placing the remaining papers in her folder.

The apricot puppy runs back into the office with her lamb securely in her mouth and her tail wagging happily. Marianne quickly attaches Dragonfly's leash to her collar and opens the gate across the office door to let the eager puppy through.

It only takes several minutes to get Dragonfly secured to her seatbelt harness in the back seat of her car but leaning out of the way to let the front seat fall back into place, Marianne sighs as she's forced to admit an unfortunate truth. She's known it for a while, stubbornly not wanting to admit it even as the weeks passed. As she drives down the road and through Foret Lodge's main entrance to the lodge's parking lot, she can't deny it any longer.

"What's wrong," Bog asks as he opens the car door?

"I have to get rid of the Cascada," Marianne mutters, stroking the steering wheel forlornly.

Marianne glares at Bog as a chuckle breaks forth and she groans as he attempts to stop his laughter by covering his mouth. Ignoring him, she releases Dragonfly from her harness and lets her out of the car.

"I'm sorry," Bog manages. "It's just that I thought something might have gone wrong at work and I'm relieved that it's just the car."

"Just the car? I love this car," Marianne growls! "This car has significant value! Besides being the first car I owned, this car is like the memorial of the year The Blacktop Butterfly was truly considered a successful business. The loan we took out to start it was completely paid off by February and we were able to buy the lot next door and enlarge the garage in May. It was also the year that Dawn and Sunny became partners to The Blacktop Butterfly and we hired Rose, Ivy, and Violet."

"I didn't mean to laugh about the car," he amends, taking Dragonfly's leash from her. "I know all about being very fond of your first car. Mine was a beautiful black 1964 Aston Martin DB5 Vantage Convertible that had first belonged to Uncle Griswold. I loved that car and Mom will tell you that I cried for a week when a deer caused its untimely demise. I still hate that deer."

"Oh, man! I hate that deer, too," she mutters, grinning at his laughter. "Dad had this gorgeous red 1964 Plymouth Valiant that he taught me to drive with. That baby ran like a dream. It didn't die a tragic death like yours did, though. Dad wanted it to stay alive as a living memory to when cars had class, so he donated it to a classic car museum that he visits."

"Donald is a car enthusiast," Bog questions in shock?

"Dad is the reason Dawn and I are mechanics," Marianne comments.

* * *

"Is it usually this busy," Marianne questions?

"It varies each opening day," Bog answers, petting Dragonfly to keep her settled as more people walk into the veranda. "Mostly it depends on the weather."

Marianne nods her understanding and takes another bite of her chef's salad. She has to admit that even though being pregnant may be partially responsible for having to get rid of her two-door convertible, it has many privileges. Being allowed to have an early salad plate from the prepared opening day picnic is definitely one of them.

"Heavy weather never bothers the devoted, though," Stuff comments, taking a bite of her own chef's salad. "A few years back we had seriously bad weather on opening day, even a possibility of a tornado, but fifty visitors still showed up."

"It may have been bad weather but that year's opening day was hilarious," Thang chuckles. "Remember when Loch got so fed-up with Mark and Jake's fighting that he threw them out onto the veranda and locked the door?"

"They were soaked within minutes," Bog laughs. "And worse for them, they were wearing all white. Uncle Brutus would have given them tickets for public indecency if it wasn't for him laughing so hard at their panicking."

Trying not to choke on her lunch, Marianne looks around the large veranda as the three falls into laughter at the memory. It must have been some storm to be able to soak everything. There wasn't any sign of damage on the grey stone acting as the floor, low walls, and columns. Even the dark wood roof and exposed tresses look in peak condition.

Not surprising that any damage done would have been repaired quickly since Foret Lodge is of great importance to the residents of Sombreville and especially to the Roi family. Memorials proving that line the walls of the great hall in the form of pictures and newspaper articles, dating back to Sombreville's founding and to when Foret Lodge was just a trading outpost.

She had thought the grand building was impressive when she first arrived in the quaint little town but that was before she was informed of its history and took her first look inside. Impressive didn't even come close to describing its magnificence.

"It's nearly noon, Mayor Roi," Beaker informs as he walks up. "There are still a few visitors that have pre-registered that haven't arrived yet, though."

"If we wait past noon, we might have a riot on our hands caused by those barbecue ribs perfuming the air," Bog chuckles.

Marianne laughs with Stuff as the guys' stomach growls as confirmation to the statement. They cheekily wave a fork filled with lettuce and ham before smugly grinning at each other.

* * *

After making sure that Dragonfly's leash is secured to the tables' legs, Bog gives Marianne a kiss on her forehead before heading to the low stone wall opposite the lodges' exterior wall. The broad wall is more of a platform that extends from several feet under the veranda's roof to several feet toward the parking lot. It doubled perfectly as a stage whenever the weather allowed, evidenced by the band equipment Bog has to avoid as he walks across it.

He withholds a groan as he turns to face the audience and notices several troublemakers from last year waiting with the gathered crowd. Hopefully, they learned their lesson last year and will abide by the rules this time. The last thing they need is another prank war.

"Greetings and welcome to Foret Lodge for a new year of adventure and memories," Bog starts. "I am Bog Roi, mayor of Sombreville and one of the owners of Foret Lodge. We are delighted to have you here and hope that you have a stay filled with fun and laughter. To ensure that, I ask that those who are new or still unsure of our rules to please contact the help desk to receive a booklet that contains information about the laws of Sombreville and rules pertaining to Foret Lodge. I will take this moment to warn any who are here who have broken our laws and rules in previous years that repeat offenders can and will be banned from returning to Foret Lodge. For your own sakes, as well as others, please refrain from having fun at someone else's expense."

From his position, Bog can clearly see one of the troublemakers make a rude gesture in his direction and he resists the urge to sigh. They obviously have no plans on behaving this year. He better make sure everyone keeps an eye out for that group.

"If you require any assistance during your time here, feel free to contact any staff member of Foret Lodge and we'll be happy to help," Bog continues. "Now that the formalities are finished, I'm sure you're all hungry and can't wait to enjoy the opening day picnic. Therefore, I declare Foret Lodge officially open for another memorable year!"

He chuckles under his breath as the crowds forgo the applause and head straight for the buffet tables. It happened every year without fail. At least they waited for the speech to end, unlike that one year when he was a teenager and his dad was still delivering the opening speech.

"And I thought Lizzie's food was in high demand," Marianne quips as he approaches the table. "Stuff and Thang disappeared right after you finished and I think I saw your parents push people out of the way in their pursuit to the buffet table."

"Lizzie is a master chef but Mark and Jake are grill masters," he remarks. "Mark makes the best barbecue ribs and Jake is the king of kabobs."

Bog offers his hand to Marianne to help her up and chuckles as she rolls her eyes at him, even as a blush spreads across her nose. He hopes she never stops blushing whenever he does this. A soft rebuke stops Dragonfly's whining as they walk away from the table and the disgruntled Poodle lays back down.

"It's kind of strange how things happen. It was Mark and Jake that gave Dad the idea to send Roland to Sombreville last year to talk about buying Foret Lodge," she comments.

"Really," Bog asks?

"Really," Marianne confirms. "He was talking to them on the last day and they had mentioned that when they're not working as chefs at The Snow Fields, they work at Foret Lodge. That got Dad to ask the other workers about their offseason plans and he found out that half the workers at The Snow Fields also work here. Dad's plan was actually motivated from trying to take care of his employees because Roland had lied and said that Foret Lodge made less business than The Snow Fields."

"Dealing with Roland may not be a fond memory but the memory of the day I met you will always hold a special place in my heart," he murmurs, giving his wife's hand a kiss.

* * *

"Bog wasn't kidding when he said those barbeque ribs were the best! Dad is going to order them to be added to the menu in The Snow Fields once he tastes them," Marianne laughs.

"Don't let Jake hear you," Stuff warns with a chuckle. "We might have another fight on our hands."

"That's what that fight was about," Marianne asks incredulously?

"No. That fight was about Mark romancing Jake's twin sister, Janice," Stuff answers. "They've been grilling rivals for years, though, and that was the last straw for Jake's temper. That storm cooled it off pretty quickly, especially since Janice threatened to lock every door if they don't stop arguing with each other."

Marianne laughs as they continue their walk around the lodge, stopping ever so often as Dragonfly sniffs intently at a spot. It doesn't take them long to wander close enough to see the large group gathered at the lake's edge where several Foret Lodge staff members are working.

Now that she can see the trouble, it's no wonder Bog had looked ready to kill someone when A.C. informed them of the problem. The rain from last night had made the boat ramp's ground too soft to support the large pontoon boat being unloaded into the water and the trailer's wheels had started to sink into the mud. A predicament that wasn't foreseen since the six previous boats were unloaded with no trouble. However, the gaudy pontoon was more of a small yacht, an excessive boat for a moderately sized lake like Lac De Bijou.

"So, what's the story on the owner of that boat," Marianne questions? "Loch and Griselda didn't look happy when A.C. mentioned who it was."

Marianne snickers as Stuff gives a growling groan. Must have been bad memories since no one wanted to answer her questions. All that happened when she asked any of the Rois was Stuff being ordered to show her around while they fixed the mess. A poor excuse to keep her out of the way.

"I may be miffed about being strictly confined to the help desk or helping with sign placement but I'm glad I'm not down there," Stuff admits. "Mr Greyson has always given me the creeps even before I started working at Foret Lodge."

Following Stuff's pointed finger, Marianne spots the boat's middle-aged owner and can't keep her mouth from dropping. It now completely makes sense to her why Bog didn't want her near there. This man had to be at least the same age as her dad and here he was, surrounded by three bikini-clad women of varying ages and there was nothing platonic in their behavior to the older man. And she thought Roland was bad!

Marianne turns to Stuff and gestures with her unoccupied hand toward the group.

"The guy obeys the rules just enough that we can't ban him," Stuff answers the unspoken question. "He knows no one here likes him but he keeps coming each year. I don't know the whole story and most of what I know was told to me by someone else but rumor has it that he does it specifically to aggravate Loch. You do know that Griselda isn't from Sombreville, right?"

"Yeah, she told me that she grew up in Manhattan," Marianne comments. "She was gushing about how history was repeating itself when I had moved here, saying that she had come to Foret Lodge one summer and fell in love with the town and with a Roi man, just like me."

"So she didn't tell you that she came Foret Lodge with her blue-blooded fiance," Stuff mutters, cackling at Marianne's highly interested face. "The story goes that Greyson had brought her here for a romantic time before their high-society wedding but one look at Loch was all it took to steal Griselda's heart and Greyson went home alone, much to the disappointment of Griselda's own blue-blooded family. Details from there are sketchy and it'd be better to ask Griselda herself but ever since then, Greyson comes to Foret Lodge every summer with some new...I'd hate to call the girls a sex toy but their behavior around a man old enough to be some of those girls' father, doesn't help painting them in a good light."

"They could be...," Marianne starts before gasping as Dragonfly jerks the leash out of her hand and starts running. "Dragonfly! Dragonfly, stop! Heel!"

"I'll get her," Bog calls!

Marianne worries her fingers as Bog abandons his position at the stuck boat and chases after the puppy. It doesn't make sense to her as the Poodle ignores his calls and keeps running with her nose pointed to the ground. It isn't the first time Dragonfly was off her leash on Foret Lodge grounds but she usually obeys the orders, even if it took a few times.

Instead of heading toward the water like she did yesterday, Dragonfly veers off toward a beaten trail into the woods with Bog running after. The yellow sign posted next to the trail makes Marianne tilt her head. That wasn't there yesterday when they were walking around the lake.

"Hey, Stuff, why is that trail marked," Marianne asks?

"Oh, no! Not that trail," Stuff groans, burying her face into her hands!

She opens her mouth to question again but Bog's panicked "Dragonfly, don't!" rings through the afternoon air, soon followed by Dragonfly's loud yelping and Bog's screaming. Any thought to be worried is dismissed as she hears Stuff's muffled laughter beside her. Laughter that even the other Foret Lodge staff are trying to suppress as the miserable puppy and the equally miserable man emerge from the trees.

"Dear, God! What is that smell," Marianne moans, covering her mouth and nose?

"That's just perfect! Not only is this your first memory of Foret Lodge while it's open but it's also the first time you get to enjoy the smell of a freshly-sprayed skunk," Stuff laughs! "Don't worry. Thang will clean them up. After all, we're pregnant."

**Tea Blend.**


	2. Remembering

**Remembering**

**Some things may be better forgotten but some things should always be remembered.**

Marianne giggles as Bog wraps his arms around her middle and starts kissing her neck, his damp short black hair tickling her as much as his mouth. She quickly turns the fire underneath the water down low and reaches her hands back to caress through the freshly washed mane.

"You are so lucky that stuff gets that horrendous smell out," she mutters.

"So you keep reminding me," Bog chuckles. "Not that I don't remember how traumatizing my first memory of the skunk smell was when Amber disturbed a nesting mother. This is the first time I've ever been sprayed by one, though. Hopefully, Dragonfly only needs one spray to get through her thick canine skull not to follow skunk trails."

The lovers turn their attention to the sulking puppy laying down near the dog door, where she had retreated to after her bath. Dragonfly lifts her head slightly at the attention before laying it down again with a sigh.

Marianne sighs herself before disentangling from her husband and adding oatmeal to the now boiling water. They may only have had Dragonfly for a week but she's grown really fond of the goofy puppy and even two days after the incident, the Poodle has yet to fully recover, despite getting treated by Sombreville's vet almost immediately.

"Is she going to be alright," Marianne questions worriedly?

"She'll be back to normal in a few days," Bog assures. "I'll take her to the vet clinic tomorrow for Dr Basil to make sure she's cleared and this will help with any nausea she's feeling."

Dragonfly saunters over as Bog pulls out the jar containing her ginger tea and happily laps up the medicinal treat. The puppy still turns up her nose as Bog put her half-filled food dish down. Dry kibble is less than appealing but she tentatively eats the half-filled dish of wet dog food Bog places down beside it.

Marianne definitely understood the poor dog losing her appetite over the nauseating smell that surrounded her and Bog for a few hours. Just a few minutes of smelling that from a distance had resulted into her own dash as her morning sickness reared its cruel head after nearly two weeks of peace. Bog himself had lost his own appetite Saturday night and all day yesterday, only able to keep a light meal down.

Hence, Griselda's recipe for homemade gruel that even ailing stubborn Rois will eat. The elder woman had immediately handed over the family recipe that her own mother-in-law had handed down to her. It's just as appreciated as Dr Basil's recipe for easily digestible homemade food for sick dogs.

It's a good thing that Bog has experience in taking care of animals.

"She's just lucky that she didn't get sprayed directly in the face fully," Bog continues, petting the puppy's head. "When I was nine, Amber went temporarily blind in one eye because of a skunk's spray and we had to wait until her sight came back on its own."

"Bog, that memory doesn't help my anxiety," Marianne mutters.

"Sorry," he chuckles sheepishly.

* * *

"So, what did you think of our Memorial Day tradition," Bog asks?

"I was so worried that I would do something that could be seen as disrespectful but it was so wonderful," Marianne replies. "I just wish that Dad didn't delay the moving until after the holiday. I'm sure that he would have liked Sombreville's version, even though he dislikes military holidays."

"Your dad doesn't like military holidays? But I thought Donald was a veteran himself," he mentions, pulling the reins to turn the horses onto the road to their house.

"Dad is but...," she starts before sighing, running a hand through her short brown hair. "Grandpa was a Vietnam veteran and while Sombreville may treat their soldiers as heroes, a lot of other places don't. Dad had grown up watching all the pain his father went through before he...died and it disgusted him that when he went into the military himself, he was treated with more respect than his father who went through so much more and with so much less support. Dad calls the military holidays a politician's poor apology for the disillusionment, horror, and lack of care that a soldier goes through after all their honor and glory talk."

"That's a pretty good assessment," Bog remarks. "It's why Sombreville doesn't treat them like other holidays because they aren't like other holidays. Other holidays are for celebrating but the military holidays are for remembering those that are usually forgotten in our daily living, so we try to make sure that it's represented with honor."

Marianne has to agree that Sombreville's Memorial Day celebrations certainly had done that. Instead of the usual flamboyancy that accompanies the town's parades, there were no fireworks waiting to be lit or decorated floats with people waiting to perform in dazzling uniforms. The only ones waiting were veterans and active military adorned in their dress uniforms and medals, riding with their significant others on horses or in carriages driven by family members. No festive decorations covered the open carriages or the horses' shiny black tack either, just wreaths of red silk poppies around each of the horses' necks.

Sure, Bog had told her in advance what to expect but seeing it was something entirely different, especially since Bog had made sure that she was apart of it. He had given up his usual place of driving the fringed canopy surrey that Loch and Griselda occupied and let her drive Goblin in the parade. The grey stallion had behaved spectacularly for her, despite his unhappiness that Bog had lent Fairy to pull Stuff's great grandfather's carriage since her Fell pony had thrown a shoe this morning.

It was a strange feeling to feel so proud but at the same time so humble as she drove through the streets of Sombreville with the others once the parade had started. At first, it was only the resident military that was in the parade but once they got to the city park, the other residents joined the parade on foot and walked behind the procession. She would have blamed the prickling tears on the pregnancy hormones but Griselda was also sniffling as they journeyed to Sombreville's cemetery to pay homage.

Of all the holiday celebrations that she had experienced, that was definitely the most special. A true Memorial Day celebration as the horses' silk poppy wreaths were removed by civilian residents to be given to the military residents to be placed on the graves of those that died because of war. It was formal but also relaxed as the residents talked to their fallen friends and family.

The other thing that Sombreville's Memorial Day celebrations differ from other Memorial Day celebrations is the lack of turning the day into a glorified picnic. Something her stomach reminds her as Goblin and Fairy pulls up to the barn. Toasted cheese sandwiches sounded good right about now.

* * *

"That was Dad," Marianne mentions as she ends the call and walks back into the living room. "Jared Larson had overheard me talking to Mom at Sunny and Dawn's wedding reception about Sombreville giving gifts to the local military bases during Armed Forces Day and..."

"You were talking about that," Bog interrupts?

"Yeah, Mom had wanted to know about the holidays coming up that Sombreville celebrated as a community and I told her that we would be missing that one since we wouldn't be back home until Saturday afternoon," she answers. "Anyway, Sunny's dad is the type that can't believe anything until he sees proof of it, so he checked into it. Dad said that he was impressed by finding out that the town also kind of adopts soldiers that had no support, as well as sending care packages out each month for the deployed, and wants to know if Sombreville accepts donations for their military gifting."

"Mr Larson could have just called city hall," he chuckles, pulling her down to the couch to sit on his lap.

"He seems to be under the impression that Sombreville might not be very hospitable to outside donators," Marianne comments. "Apparently, he had first asked a business associate that he knows vacations here and he had told him that Sombreville residents don't take kindly to wealthy outsiders."

"Who would...Greyson," Bog groans. "Can't he ever let it go! I'm thirty-one, for heaven's sake!"

"Is it terrible that I think the whole thing is hilarious," she giggles?

Any attempt to glare at her for her laughter is ruined as his own chuckle breaks forth. It really is such a stupid thing to be vindictive about considering the circumstances. Neither his mother or Greyson had even wanted the arranged marriage. He preferred extravagant partying and she liked the simpler things. It was their parents' bright idea for them to spend a romantic time at a secluded cabin in Foret Lodge before their wedding.

Every time his parents told him the story, they insisted that their interactions were completely platonic as Loch showed Griselda the sites of Foret Lodge and Sombreville. It's wasn't their fault that Greyson couldn't accompany them since he slept most of the day because he partied too long into the night. Then when Griselda refused to go home with him, saying that she wasn't going through with the wedding and that she wanted to stay in Sombreville, Greyson hadn't even cared. A fact made perfectly clear when he drove off with one of the girls he partied with every night.

However, their parents did care and they loudly objected because the arranged marriage was to solidify a business deal between the families. Griselda had used her stubborn tenacity and refused to budge on her decision to live a simple life, even if it meant the cost of her inheritance. It wasn't until the elder Greysons started threatening their own son's inheritance did the playboy even come back into the picture to try and persuade Griselda to renew the engagement.

Griselda being Griselda came up with the perfect solution to fervently declare that she wasn't available and didn't care about her family's objections. She proposed to Loch several days before he was deployed, who agreed to get married right then and there despite his worries about the possibility of leaving her an army widow. The real trouble came when she realized that she was pregnant sooner than what should have been possible for how long they were married and Greyson spread rumors that the child was his in the hope that Loch would divorce her and she'd agree to marry him.

His plan backfired when not only the Roi family stood behind Griselda's declaration that it was Loch's child but her own family supported her as well and stopped doing business with the Greysons. By that time, though, Greyson's ego was thoroughly bruised because of Griselda choosing a "poor, ugly, mongrel" over him when he was willing to take her back. Which started his campaign to do everything in his ability to irritate Loch and Griselda.

"Okay, it is funny," Bog concedes once his laughter stops. "Just don't say that to Mom and Dad when Greyson is around."

"At least the guy has enough respect to not cause any problems during the holiday," Marianne comments.

"That's because he's scared of angering Mom too much," he explains. "Mom may have been raised a lady but after that whole mess where he claimed to be my dad, Mom had only stayed calm until after I was born and then she sent him to the emergency room."

**Tea Blend.**


End file.
